He Thinks It’s All Over
by skag trendy
Summary: After the events at Roosevelt Asylum, Sam’s guilt is quite literally killing him, and Dean realises it’s far from over... AU fic set six years after A Crash Course In Road Safety. Dedicated to Criminally Charmed – you’ll soon see why!
1. Chapter 1

**He Thinks It's All Over**

_**After the events at Roosevelt Asylum, Sam's guilt is quite literally killing him, and Dean realises it's far from over...**_

_**AU fic set 6 years after A Crash Course In Road Safety -Season 1**_

_**Dedicated to Criminally Charmed – you'll soon see why!**_

_**Not Mine. If they were they'd both be keeping my bed warm. Hurhurhur...**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean stared at Sam; the emotions running across his little brother's face making him feel sick.

"You remember all that?"

"Yeah. Look Dean, I didn't mean all that stuff I said. Any of it."

"You didn't huh?"

And it was _that_ look on Dean's face that told Sam just how much he'd hurt his big brother, the guy he owed his very life to. Guilt and panic shot through him.

"Do we need to talk about this?" Sam asked softly.

The look was gone to be replaced with a cold hardness, the barest tinge of anger and mistrust flashing in his eyes, polished off with a stubborn tilt to the chin.

"Nah. I'm not really in a caring-sharing kinda mood." And with that he slid behind the wheel and slammed the door shut with a disturbing finality.

Sam sighed unhappily. _I guess I deserved that._

Maybe he _hadn't_ meant it, but those thoughts, those feelings truly existed, had originated from somewhere and on top of the verbal abuse, Sam had tried to kill him. And not just once. After shooting him in the chest with rock salt Sam hadn't stopped there. Dean had offered Sam his pistol and told him to finish it.

Sam had hesitated only long enough to step forward and aim the weapon _right in his brother's face_. He'd squeezed the trigger four? Five times? Sam had lost count.

"_You hate me that much...?"_

His knees felt about ready to give way, as he stumbled round to the passenger side. Taking in a few deep breaths trying to calm himself down, he opened the door and silently slid into his own seat.

But the panic and guilt that had started out with a slow burn, pretty soon became an all consuming fire.

_My God I could've killed him!_

Sam knew he was seconds away from either being sick or hyperventilating. And it didn't help that his head still ached from whatever Ellicott had done to him.

"Dean..."

"What?" Dean snapped in annoyance.

"Never mind."

_Calm down for Christ's sake! You think Dean will show you any sympathy after what you did to him? You think you __**deserve**__ any?_

Sam took slow, even breaths. Fortunately his brother hadn't noticed anything wrong, not that he was likely to. Dean's chest had to hurt like hell and the image of his little brother, the kid he'd virtually raised by himself, holding a gun on him would probably keep him distracted for a while.

Sam turned his head to stare out the passenger window when he felt tears threaten.

_Thank God Dean had the presence of mind to empty the clip._

Just as Sam once again felt himself being overwhelmed with guilt, Dean pulled off the highway into the parking lot of a motel.

"Figured we could use some downtime." Dean said shortly by way of explanation. Before Sam could even blink, his brother was out the car and striding over to the reception area.

Sam knew that in time Dean would forgive him, that everything would return to normal. He just had to grit his teeth and weather the storm, right? But doubt once again assaulted him; they'd been on the road for five hours and not one word had been said.

Dean was more than just angry. He was pissed as hell.

Sam watched his brother out of his peripheral vision when he climbed back in and manoeuvred the car round the block. Once parked up, Dean was out the car and striding away, key at the ready, not once looking back to see if Sam followed.

Sam got out and moved round to the trunk. Popping the lid he grabbed his duffle as well as his brother's and, with some considerable foot-dragging, followed Dean into the room. Immediately Sam dropped the bags on a table by the window he turned to find his brother heading out again.

"Dean wait..."

"I'm going for a drink. Alone." Dean didn't even look at him, but he scowled down at the large hand that now held the door shut, blocking his escape.

"Dean, I'm sorry." Sam whispered, sounding genuinely regretful and when Dean hesitated for just a second Sam felt his hopes soaring. But they were soon dashed.

"So you said." Dean knocked his hand away, and without another word left for the bar.

Sam sank down onto the bed, rested his elbows on his knees and buried his aching head in his hands.

"Oh God what have I done?" He whispered aloud as the tears finally started falling.

_You should have finished it!_

Sam's head shot up and frantically swivelled round the room, desperately seeking the owner of that voice. When nothing else happened he sat back breathing heavily, his stomach churning.

_You must finish it!_

Sam shook his head, trying to dampen down the nausea.

_I can make you all better if you just finish it!_

The churning grew violent and he scrambled for the bathroom, the door slamming against the wall as he collapsed to his knees and vomited. Vomited until there was nothing left and he was dry retching.

Emotionally and physically exhausted, Sam shakily got to his feet and gripped the sink. He raised his head and stared at his reflection for a few seconds. Leaning forward slightly to get a closer look, he realised that his nose had started bleeding again. Shaky hands reached for the tap as the first few drops of blood stained the white porcelain, and he splashed water onto his face, then ran a damp hand through his hair. It came away covered in something sticky.

Sam stared at the blood on his hand and glanced back up at the mirror. There was blood leaking from both his ears.

White bolts of agony suddenly shot through his head and he squeezed his eyes shut, gasping, until it passed. Sam slouched down onto the toilet lid and sat there dizzy and disoriented, glancing out to the bedroom, wondering if he could make it to the bed. Maybe if he just got some sleep he'd be ok.

A few calming breaths and he stood up swaying, shuffling forward. Just as he caught his reflection in the mirror again the pain came back, but this time twice as harsh and unforgiving, and he cried out. He could see a bright glow surrounded by sparks of light shooting from his mouth and eyes; in a panic he fumbled for his cell phone, tucked away in the back pocket of his jeans. He hit speed dial, but Dean wasn't answering.

_Finish it!_

"No!" Sam screamed in pain as he lurched towards the bedroom, but he never made it. The agony in his head spread throughout his body as every single muscle gave up control and painful spasms racked him. Half in and half out of the bedroom, he slumped face first to the 

floor, eyes wide open in fear as his body started seizing violently. The phone had fallen from his hand but it lay nearby.

"_This is Dean Winchester. Leave a message."_

"De...Dean..." Sam just managed to choke out. "Please...come back...help...me."

Even after losing consciousness Sam's body was still convulsing, though it gradually subsided, leaving his muscles tight and lightly vibrating. Blood continued to pour from his nose and ears as his eyes stared sightlessly at the bare wall, his breathing jerky and ragged.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean downed another whiskey chaser and belched loudly. When several dirty looks were thrown his way he scowled deeply until the punters abruptly turned back to their own drinks.

Sam. Sammy. Little brother. _Little psychopath._

Dean knew he was being irrational and unfair; Sam hadn't been in the driver's seat, had no control. But Dean just couldn't get that image out of his head. The look of sheer hatred and anger on Sam's face was bad enough but when Dean gave him the pistol, Sam had been almost too eager to squeeze the trigger. In truth, a part of Dean wished he hadn't removed the clip. Anything to lose the memory of those few minutes when his world felt as though it was crashing down around him.

Because in those few minutes, Sam had hated him. And right now Dean wanted to spend the next few _hours_ drinking the memory away.

A shrill noise coming from his jacket pocket distracted him. Pulling his cell phone out, he spotted the caller ID. Sam. Dean just stared at the screen and before he could make a decision, the call went to his voice mail. It was probably for the best.

Dean settled in for the night, drinking, hustling and even half-enjoyed a quick rampant sex session in the room out back with the barmaid. He felt himself truly start to relax for the first time since leaving Roosevelt, and had even managed to stop thinking about his brother for a little while.

For a little while, things were back to normal.

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

Dean glanced a little blearily at his watch. Two in the morning? Really? Wow!

He stumbled out the bar, two hundred dollars in his back pocket and what felt like a case load of whiskey in his belly. Stumbling a little, he giggled to himself. Boy! Is Sam gonna be mad!

The thought sobered him up a little and his erratic pace slowed. Dean really didn't want to go back to that room, to his brother. Not right now. He just wasn't ready and a part of him wished he'd paid for an extra room.

Stopping by the Impala, he hesitated. He could easily spend the night in the car, wouldn't be the first time. But it nagged at him that Sam might worry when he woke in the morning and Dean wasn't there. As angry as he was with him at the moment, he knew Sam didn't deserve 

that. The kid felt guilty enough as it was, and any pleasure Dean had milked from that was starting to wane.

Shrugging, Dean stumbled on over to the room. Trying the handle, he frowned when the door clicked open. His frown deepened when he stepped inside, turned on the nightstand light and noticed that no salt lines had been laid. The room was totally unprotected.

"Sam?" He called out angrily. "What the hell were you...?" His eyes fell on a dark shape slumped over the threshold of the bathroom. Fear galvanised him into action and he turned on the main overhead light.

Sam lay on his stomach, head turned away...but it was the blood on his face and pooling on the grimy carpet that completely threw Dean into turmoil.

"Sam!"

And he was on the floor beside him, gently turning him over.

"Oh God Sammy!"

Blue-green eyes stared right through Dean, but they were filled with pain and torment. His chest was shuddering with each breath as though it was a herculean effort to draw air into his lungs. His body was quaking, as though an electric current was passing through it.

Dean gasped when sparks flew from Sam's eyes and mouth and recognised it immediately.

_Ellicott!_

"Nooooo!" Sam suddenly screamed and thrashed violently. "I won't...I can't...you can't make me..."

Sam started convulsing in Dean's arms, fresh blood spilling from his ears, flowing from his nose.

As soon as it started it was over, Sam lying limp and breathless, but his body still felt like an electricity generator running on half power. Sam whispered over and over.

"Ican'tIcan'tIcan'tIcan't..."

With one hand supporting Sam's head, Dean's other hand patted Sam's face.

"Hey hey HEY! Come on Sam! Snap out of it!" But Sam's only response was to stop breathing altogether.

There was absolutely no warning. No breathless plea, no gasp for air, no arching back desperately seeking release.

He just stopped breathing.

Dean stared down at him in shock. Stared down into those eyes, watching the light gradually fade.

The silence that followed was paralysing. For a second, Dean forgot all his training, forgot _everything._

All he saw was his little brother aiming his own gun at him.

And _just for a second_...he nearly let him go.

But the spell was soon broken; Dean finally remembered that this was his little brother, the one he was meant to protect.

"NO!" Dean had Sam on his back, wiping at the blood, clearing his airway, _breathing the life back into him._

"Comeoncomeoncomeon..." Dean whispered to him, as he checked his breathing and pulse.

Still nothing.

Dean carried on, and on, and on...until his heart was breaking. He was nearly ready to give up hope, but his eye caught Sam's cell phone lying nearby, and read the display.

The last person Sam had tried to call whilst lying on the floor _in his own blood_...

Dean felt like being sick, and utter, absolute pain attacked him as his heart finally cracked in two.

_He was asking for my help when he was dying...and I ignored him!_

"No!" Dean restarted CPR, pressing on his brother's body, forcing air into him. "You're gonna live Sammy! I won't leave you again I swear! Just come back to me!"


	2. Chapter 2

**He Thinks It's All Over Chapter 2**

_Finish it!_

Sam held the shotgun, aiming at his brother. Dean stared up at him from the floor of the basement, holding out the handgun and still gasping for breath.

He couldn't stop himself. Sam grasped his brother's weapon, stepped forward, took aim...

You hate me that much...

_Finish this! Finish him!_

_NOOOOO!!_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean leaned over Sam, ear to his mouth. It was faint but he couldn't help the smile of relief when he felt small warms puffs of air on his skin.

"Atta boy Sam." Dean gently cradled Sam in his arms; he wasn't waking up but he was alive. And Dean had to settle for that small mercy, just for now. "Let's get you somewhere more comfortable."

Carefully hooking one arm under Sam's knees, he lifted him up from the floor, grimacing not just at the heavy load but at the large patch of blood staining the carpet.

"Guess we aint gettin' our room deposit back huh Sam?" Sam's only answer was for his head to roll bonelessly against Dean's shoulder. Fortunately the bed was literally a few feet 

away, and as soon as Dean had his brother lying down, he darted over to the bathroom and ran a washcloth under the faucet.

"Hey Sammy? Can you hear me bro?" Dean sat on the edge of the bed and tilted Sam's face towards him. "I'm gonna clean you up a little, get all that blood off."

As soon as he started gently wiping his brother's face and neck, Sam whimpered and tried to struggle away.

"Shhhh. Sammy it's just me ok?" But Sam's struggles became almost desperate and his cries grew louder, his body starting to shake.

It was happening again.

"NOOOO!!" Sam's body twisted frantically, his head thrashing from side to side as Dean tried his best to keep him still. "I won't, I can't, I..."

The white lightening engulfed his mouth and eyes, and Sam was convulsing violently yet again.

_How the hell is this happening? I __**barbequed**__ that sonofabitch!_

Dean placed his hands on either side of Sam's face, cupping it gently, his own heart squeezing every time he heard his brother's broken sobs and painful breathing.

"Sam listen to me. I'm right here." He clambered further up onto the bed, pinning Sam's arms with his knees, and staring right into his brother's glazed eyes. "It's gonna be ok. Stay with me, Sammy. Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me..." Dean kept repeating softly to his brother as the seizure progressed and eventually faded, to be replaced by the painful shivering.

Dean was dismayed to find that Sam's nose and ears were bleeding again, but at least he hadn't stopped breathing this time. After gently wiping him clean again, Dean sat back a little and grasped Sam's hand. It was cold as ice and shaking like a leaf. Frowning he ran his hand up Sam's arm, feeling the muscles as he went. Eyes widened, he smoothed both his hands over his little brother's neck and shoulders, then back down his arms to his wrists, where he held them tight.

"Shit Sam!" It wasn't just shivering, it was minor convulsions wracking Sam's body; the muscles being forced to expand and contract time and again, over and over, many hundreds of times a second, and it had to hurt. A lot. No wonder the poor kid looked like he was going through a living hell.

Feeling Sam's forehead only deepened his worry. Sam had a raging fever and Dean was startled at how quickly it had developed; he was pretty sure he'd have noticed it earlier.

Dean was scared shitless and had no idea what to do. But he did know that Sam wasn't going to last much longer. Any more of these..._attacks _and his brother was going to die.

Ok. Think. Need to calm him, stop the muscle spasms. Dean leapt off the bed and grabbed the first aid kit. Maybe if Sam was rendered deeply unconscious Ellicott wouldn't be able to get to him.

"I know it's in here." He muttered to himself as he rummaged through it. Then he held up a small container and shook it. "Ok. Now we're gettin' somewhere."

Ripping a piece of paper free of the motel's complimentary notebook Dean shook out a small quantity of diazepam pills, wrapped the paper around them, then bent down and began untying his laces.

It made quite an amusing sight to the drunken late night passerby's, seeing Dean repeatedly raising his boot and smashing it down on the table, gradually crushing the pills. He had his arm raised when he saw them watching him through the windows, and Dean froze. Plastering a grin on his face before making all the appropriate signs to indicate that he was merely swatting the shit out of one hell of an annoying fly, he carried on.

Once they'd moved on Dean closed the curtains, muttering about perverts.

Then he continued on his quest, except Dean was in deadly earnest and he got the feeling that Sam was gearing up for another attack. After grabbing a bottle of water from the min-bar, Dean folded the scrap of paper in two, then funnelled the now powdered sedative into the water. Screwing the lid back on, he gave it a good shake. Dean was pretty sure he'd exceeded the dose, but Sam needed to go out like a light and quickly. It would keep him down but it wouldn't kill him

_I hope!_

It was 'Devil and The Deep Blue Sea' territory. Either way, Sam was screwed.

"No...please...stop...I can't...Dean...RUN!" Sam shot up from the bed, eyes wild with pain, anger, confusion, fear. There was so much going on in those eyes that Dean winced in sympathy.

But he stilled when he saw what was in his little brother's hand.

He slowly raised his eyes to Sam's face.

"Sammy." He called softly. "Give me the knife..."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam was standing over his brother again.

"No. This isn't right. This has to stop!"

_Finish this!_

Dropping the shotgun, he reached down and swiped the hunting knife from Dean's ankle. A loud roar reverberated round the basement, as Ellicott grew angry.

_You must finish this, it's the only way!_

Sam gripped the knife determinedly. "No. You don't get to make the rules!" He drove the blade deep into his wrist, the blood spurting up, branding his face. His point made, he turned the blade until it was level with his own gut.

He glanced at his brother one last time. "I can't kill you again," he whispered.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean was rooted to the spot when he saw his little brother's carnage begin, the blade slicing deep and hard. But soon he was moving.

He'd seen enough of Sam's blood spilt to last a life time.

"Sam no!" Dean launched across the motel room, grabbed Sam's wrist and squeezed hard. Sam fought back but his body was too weak, and Dean soon wrestled the knife from his brother's hand. "Not a chance! I'm not letting him do this to you!"

Hooking a foot round the back of Sam's knees he pulled him then pushed backwards. His brother soon over-balanced and fell onto the bed. Dean grabbed the drugged water, twisted the cap off and jammed the spout in between Sam's lips.

The next set of convulsions were imminent and Dean hurriedly pinned his brother down, pinched his nose and force fed him the fluid.

"Come on Sam drink!" He yelled as Sam gasped and spluttered, bucking and writhing, but Dean wouldn't let up, and pretty soon the bottle was empty. He sat back as Sam stared up at him, breathing hard and fast. "Slow it down buddy. Just take it easy." Dean reached out and brushed Sam's hair away from his eyes. Heaving a sigh of relief as Sam's body relaxed, he watched as his little brother gradually passed out, body completely still and no sign of the spasms.

The convulsions had been put on hold, Dean was pretty certain of that. He knew he couldn't keep his brother sedated permanently, and neither could he allow him to not only suffer excruciating pain or attempt to kill himself. He needed to figure this out, but he had no clue of what was going on in Sam's head.

In silence, he cleaned the slash in his brother's wrist, unable to halt the worry when Sam didn't even flinch when he poured peroxide solution over it, or even when he started stitching.

Sam was in deep trouble and all the evidence pointed to Ellicott. _But how?_

Dean thought hard, chewing on his lip. He was at a complete loss.

There was only one person that might be able to help, and Dean wasn't even sure his father listened to his voicemails any more. But he had to try, because there simply were no other options.

_This is John Winchester. In the event of an emergency contact my son Dean..._

Dean waited for voicemail to kick in, then took a deep breath.

"Dad...it's me. We took care of that job at the Asylum...but Sam...something happened Dad. I think...Sam's dying and I don't know what to do! He tried to kill himself..."

Dean sniffed, already hardening his resolve. "We need help. _Sam_ needs help, and he needs it fast!" He left a parting shot. "Please tell me that you aint so mad at him that you'd let 'im die?"

Dean slowly closed the cell, still watching his brother like a hawk. It was below the belt, even by Dean's standards, but he was getting desperate.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

He couldn't allow himself any sleep. Sam was out cold but how long would that last? So Dean spent the night pacing the room, sitting by his brother, watching nameless crap on TV. He had no idea how long the drugs would last, or if he'd overdosed Sam, so he had to keep up a constant vigil. Dean was ready and waiting for Sam to wake up, because then he could assess him, check if he was any pain or about to go psychotic, but mainly so he could safely administer more drugs before Sam became tormented by those fearsome convulsions.

So that's what he did. Any time Sam showed signs of regaining consciousness, Dean drugged him again. And he knew he couldn't keep that up for long.

Trouble was, this had already gone on for three days, and no word from his father. And why was Dean so surprised at that?

But when the knock at the door came, Dean was out of his seat and fumbling with the lock, praying and hoping that...

But who was standing there waiting for him was a complete surprise. And Dean struggled to hide his disappointment.

"Yeah. I know who you were hoping for." Joey raised her arms and twirled before gracing him with her familiar mischievous grin. "All right shorty?"

And Dean felt utterly exhausted. No it wasn't his father at the door, but she might possibly be the next best thing. He stared down into her soft brown eyes and knew that she wasn't in the least offended. Understood in fact.

He hadn't seen her in six years, since she...well, from the way he understood it saved his brother's life.

Joey glared at him, and her cockney accent seemed to thicken with anger. "Seems like I'm just in time eh?" She gave him a shove...and kept on shoving until he fell back onto his bed. Joey loomed over him, if it was at all possible for someone less than five foot six to manage. Her stare would have been threatening if it weren't for the edge of concern gleaming in her eyes. "You should know better than to go so long without sleep. You're a hunter. You need to be alert." A small grin. "the world needs lerts!" Dean blinked.

_This woman's sense of humour always did drive me crazy!_

After a long pause, where Joey gave him a once over glance that he hadn't felt since showering in high school, she simply nodded before adding, "Time for you to get some sleep."

Dean couldn't help but feel a little sad. Apart from the accent it was just like...having a mom again?

What?

"But..."

"I'll keep an eye on 'im mate. Dan'cha worry 'bout a fing m'darlin'" And Dean felt no fear, no macho denial when she leaned over and kissed his forehead. Then he truly felt nothing except sheer peace and bliss.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Joey watched Dean for a few minutes, just to make sure he was out. Then she turned to Sam.

"Sweetheart." She breathed out softly. " What 'ma I gonna do wif you lot eh?" And Joey leaned forward, bracing her hands on either side of Sam's forehead. "Let's see what's goin' on in there..."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean woke up with a start. He was having some trouble remembering the last few days...he glanced at his watch. Yeah, it _had_ been a few days since...

"Joey?" He called out sharply, and turned his head to stare at the woman slumped in the chair by Sam's bed.

"Shh." Tired, sad eyes met his. "I've been watching over him for ya mate., jus' like I promised." It wasn't the jovial, teasing voice he remembered hearing. Now the voice matched her eyes. Tired, sad and resigned.

Dean stared hard. "We can't help him can we?" He swallowed down his fear and regret. "Sam's gonna die."

Joey then fully turned to stare right back at him. "No. There's always a way." That grin, the one that offered hope, returned all but briefly. "And you hold the answer, whev'er you know it or not."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

So, as promised to a few individuals, Joey is back! But this is mostly for Criminally Charmed...and she will get what she wants!

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	3. Chapter 3

**He Thinks It's All Over Chapter 3**

Dean gazed at her, wondering if he was still asleep and this was just a really weird dream of 'Sam' proportions.

"I hold the..." Finally he remembered to blink. "Come again?"

Joey chuckled. She always did find Dean's reactions rather comical and simply adored his sense of humour.

"Being able to assist in the healing process often means having to violate the sanctity of the patient's mind." Dean's sharp brain immediately picked up on her use of the word 'patient'. _She's obviously done this too many times before._

"It's helpful to know what makes a person tick before you start messing about with whatever ails them."

It wasn't what she said, _that_ part made a sort of sense to Dean, it was rather how she said it. The words she used should have come from some college professor in a tweed suit with elbow patches, not from an often foul mouthed Londoner whose favourite party piece was belching the theme tune to 'High Chaparral', though Dean had to admit he'd been impressed at the time. He mentally shook himself when he realised Joey was speaking again.

"Oy! Wakey, wakey Winchester! Am I fuckin' talkin' to meself 'ere or what?"

_There_ she is! Dean covered a smirk and wondered not for the first time why his father never kicked her ass for such language; John had been pretty strict about cursing and swearing where his sons were concerned, but then again he'd also spent some considerable time in the 

Marines, who weren't exactly famous for singing hymns on the parade square nor expressions of cherubic innocence on the battle field. Whatever, there was obviously something about the woman that made his father just a little more tolerant than usual. "Sorry. Still a little out of it I guess."

Joey's gaze softened. "As I was saying, Ellicott's latched onto Sam."

Dean sat up straighter. "How?"

Joey was silent for a long moment as if wondering if she should answer him, but clearly she felt it necessary because she nodded to herself. "Guilt." At Dean's raised eyebrow she explained. "He's latched onto Sam's guilt, and that's what's torturing your brother. That's why Ellicott's still here. And there's something else that's important here too. Something that Sam's thought of, but he's been unable to fully process its significance, what with his mind stuck in an involuntary loop."

"What?" Dean moved to sit on the edge of the bed, elbows on knees and clasped hands resting between them.

"Sam's the first ever victim to survive the full effects of Ellicott's 'treatment' right? All the other's killed someone close to them then went on to kill themselves."

"And that's why Sam tried to stab himself." Dean rested sad eyes on his sleeping brother.

"Yeah." Joey nodded. "He was protecting you and still is."

A sharp phantom pain went through Dean on hearing that, and it took him a little while before he could speak again.

"So Ellicott found he couldn't use Sam's anger again and started using his guilt instead?" When Joey just nodded again, Dean sighed. This was getting more and more complicated by the second.

"Sam was ready for him, but Ellicott found another way, and now Sam's mind is stuck in a feedback loop of the events at the Asylum and it won't end until either you or Sam are dead. Ellicott's hoping to break Sam by showing him what he did to you, and what he _might _have done." Joey winced before added "and it's slowly killing him."

Dean fell back on the bed with a bounce and stared at the ceiling. He could now acknowledge the part he'd played in all this; he'd added to Sam's guilt, refusing to talk to him, spend time with him, denying Sam the chance to talk it through when he so obviously needed to, needed the reassurance that can only come from forgiveness. And all because Dean had been petty and spiteful, wanting some kind of payback for the pain Sam's words in Roosevelt had caused. He hadn't wanted to talk about it because he was a coward and couldn't face the fact that Sam's words, although hurtful, contained more than a few grains of truth.

_He was protecting you..._

Dean felt his eyes stinging and blinked away the threatening tears. This round of self-deprecation wasn't helping Sam defeat Ellicott. Then some of what Joey said came back and smacked him well and truly in the face.

"Killing him?" Dean sat up as though someone had lit a fire under him. "You mean that Ellicott can still get to him when he's unconscious? Even though he's spent the last few days drugged up to the eyeballs? The kid's damn near comatose!"

Joey smiled grimly. "'Fraid so. Don't get me wrong; I think you did the right thing givin' him valium. It was the kindest thing you could have done for him, 'cos I can only _begin_ to imagine the amount of pain Sam was in." She shook back her hair and gathered it in a high ponytail, before slipping on a scrunchy to hold it in place. "but that's only treating the physical symptoms. Ellicott, whilst he's latched on to Sam, can pretty much go anywhere he fucking wants in Sam's head. 'Cos he's a bastard. But it's also why Sam's so feverish; he's fighting Ellicott, not letting him take over."

Dean covered his eyes with a hand. "Oh Christ!" Dragging his hand downwards and feeling the stubble of the last few days, Dean raised weary eyes to Joey. "So what now? We can't exactly salt and burn my brother just to get rid of Ellicott!" He heard the frustration in his voice and hung his head.

"No. I don't think Sam would take too kindly to that!" Joey smirked. Grin fading she reached over and patted Dean on the shoulder. "Let's go over it all, find out if there's something we've missed. Don't worry, we'll figure it out mate."

Dean nodded and sat back on the bed.

The two of them spent the next few hours going over every detail of the incident in the basement, even down to how Sam was standing, what he was wearing, and his exact words to Dean before, during and after shooting him with rock salt.

At one point Joey, who was busy making notes on a pad, looked up to find Dean staring at her.

"You all right m'darlin'?" she asked softly.

"Yeah, sorry." Dean averted his eyes and moved across the room to sit by Sam. He touched the back of his hand to his little brother's forehead and frowned. The fever was still raging. 

"It's just that I didn't even go into much detail when I called Dad for help, and yet you sit here talking about it all as though you were actually there, watching it."

It was the closest he could get to asking her outright, but Joey merely smiled sadly. "In a way I was, now that I've seen it in Sam's mind." The smile faded again. "Sam's being forced to play it out every which way, but he's not letting Ellicott win. He really does feel bad about the things he said. I could feel it. But somehow...I don't know, there's something telling me that the answer's so simple we'll bloody kick ourselves."

"What do you mean?" Dean turned to Joey in surprise. "Sounds like its pretty damn complicated to me!"

"Sam's only the half of it. There must be something else that allowed Ellicott to get such a firm grip on him to start with, and I'm not just talking about Sam's _abilities_." Joey laughed a little at Dean's expression. "Of course I saw it. How could I not? It stands out bigger than a honeymooner's prick!" She suddenly sat up straight. "Wait! How did you know about the hidden room? How did you find out about the experiments?"

Dean's eyes widened. "Dr Psycho's journal! It gave all the plans, methods, equipment needed..._everything_. Damnit!" He got to his feet and paced to the window, staring out into the now darkening sky. He felt so angry with himself for missing it.

He felt Joey move up behind him and rest a hand on his shoulder.

"I think you both had rather a lot on your minds, pardon the pun, so don't be a wanker and start getting with the guilt. It's landed your brother in enough trouble. And I knew you held the answer, so lets get going."

"Right. You watch over Sam I'll head back and destroy those journals..."

"What? I stay at home playing Nurse Nightingale whilst you swan off on your own with no back up? How do you know Ellicott won't come after ya?" Joey was virtually bristling with anger. "Fuck that pal! Besides, Sam needs you. And though I'm pretty strong for a bird I really can't see me being able to pacify your giant of a brother should he wake up, and by the way, what the _hell_ 'ave ya been feedin' this one over the years?" Joey jerked a thumb at Sam, who lay oblivious on the bed. "'as he been sleepin' in a sodding grow bag at night or what? I mean, I know he was tall for sixteen but the bugger's _shot_ up since I last saw 'im." She looked Dean up and down and started grinning again. "Whereas _you..._

"Don't start!" Dean rounded on her. "As for you..."

Sam chose that moment to begin the slow process of waking up and groaned in pain, the tremors already attacking him. "Dean..." He whispered, eyes opening a fraction though just how much he was able to take in was debatable.

"I'm here Sam." Dean nodded to Joey when she handed over a bottle of pre-prepared water. "I want you drink this for me ok? You've got a fever and we need to keep you hydrated." As usual Sam put up a fight, albeit a weak one, but this time he tried to knock the bottle out of Dean's hand in his struggle.

"N...no...D..Dean pl...please. You h..have to l...leave." Sam rolled his head away but Dean grabbed the back of his neck holding him still. "D...don't w...wanna h...hurt you. Y...you h...have to g...go."

"I'm not going anywhere without you." Dean rested his forehead against his brothers in despair. "Now come on Sammy please. Drink the water for me."

He felt the bed dip slightly and Joey sat perched on the other side.

"Sam sweetheart." She reached out and stroked his hair, just like she had six years ago after the accident. "Drink the water and it won't hurt so much. We've all got a long journey ahead of us and this will make you more comfortable."

Sam obviously had no clue who she was or why she was there but the sound of her voice seemed to calm him. Dean could have been jealous of that but he knew why his own voice agitated his brother.

Sam was scared for him.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

It was indeed a long journey. In the end it was decided they would take Dean's car. Well, decided was probably the wrong word; there was never any question about whose car they would use. Joey's rental was issued under a false name anyhow so she had no qualms about leaving it behind. She could always pick up another one at some point.

Joey sat in the back with Sam in her arms. Dean, of course, drove, occasionally glancing in the review mirror to check how Sam was doing.

It was surprising just how young Sam appeared right now. He was tall, in his early twenties, and yet at the moment he resembled an infant curled up in Joey's arms, head resting on her shoulder, his cheeks flushed with fever. Joey gently bathed his face and neck with a cool damp wash cloth, and on the occasions that he stirred or became restless, Dean could just about hear her whispering reassurances to him until he settled down again.

When Joey fell in to a fitful doze, Dean found his mind wandering. Joey hadn't discussed it and Dean hadn't asked. It really was none of his business whatever her relationship was with his father, and clearly something _was_ going on; why would he have sent her instead? John Winchester was a man and had needs, and Dean wasn't stupid. He'd sensed the chemistry between the two of them six years ago but he hadn't known if anything happened. He and Sam had sometimes speculated as to why Joey had taken off, if it had anything to do with their father, why she hadn't stopped to say goodbye at the time, but Dean now realised with quite some surprise that it hadn't even crossed his mind to ask since she'd turned up out of the blue. Sure, he'd been pre-occupied worrying himself half to death about his brother, but now that he had time to think about it...

Time had passed quickly and Dean was soon pulling up outside the Asylum, just as Joey stretched and yawned.

"This it?" She jerked her chin towards the building.

"Yep. The very place." Dean left the driver's seat, closing his door quietly.

"And this is where they sent the fruitcakes, in the forlorn hope of curing them?" Joey had gently crawled out from under Sam and laid him back on the seat before covering him with a blanket and joining Dean outside. She sniffed loudly, scornfully, "Bloody hell! Seems more like the sort of place that would _drive_ you kangaroo poo! Poor buggers."

Dean shook his head in amusement before heading over to the trunk and pulling out various weapons, including his brother's shotgun, which he handed over to Joey. Unsurprisingly, she handled it expertly checking both chambers for ammunition, releasing the safety and sighting down the barrels.

Seeing as Ellicott was messing with Sam's mind they figured he'd be too busy to bother with them, but it was better to be safe than sorry. Locking all the car doors should Sam wake up, though he was pretty out of it seeing as Joey had given him the last of the valium, they set off, taking the same entrance Dean and Sam had taken days ago on their first encounter with the place.

Dean easily vaulted over the fence but Joey being somewhat shorter in height appeared to be having some trouble. Finally, her upper body hanging over the top, she managed to swing her legs over and Dean caught her as she dropped to the ground.

"You were sayin'...?" Dean's sardonic comment was clearly referring to Joey's earlier statement regarding Sam and Dean's height.

She elbowed him lightly in the stomach and chuckled. "Ah bollocks to ya!" Giving him one of her quick grins she moved off, instinctively falling into battle stance. Dean vaguely wondered about that, about her past, what training she'd under taken. Very little was known about the woman, and Joey wasn't about to give up that information without a fight.

Dean directed the both of them to the clinic room where he'd discovered the journals, but as soon as they crossed the threshold they just _knew_ it wasn't going to be that easy.

For a start, the journals weren't there.

But Sam was.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Author's notes:**_

Not a lot of Sam in this chapter I know, that's why I've added in a little more angst to make up for it.

I must apologise in advance for the coming weeks. My updates are going to be rather few and far between since my mate's wedding is coming up and I'm a bridesmaid, not to mention her hen night is this weekend and we're likely to get very, very drunk – which I should point out is a famous Channel Island pass time. This should amuse you all. It's fancy dress, and my erstwhile mate has latched onto the idea of me going as Captain Jack Sparrow. Whilst I'm pretty sure I can walk the walk, I'm not so sure I can talk the talk. My husband keeps on taking the piss out of me about it, and I, in exchange, keep on threatening him with a game of Hunt The Testicle; something _all_ woman everywhere, married or not, should know the rules to and make damn sure the men never fully understand!

The trick is to always remember where you've hidden them!

Keep those reviews coming, and remember that even if you don't hear from me for some time, I still luv ya!

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's foreword:**_

**The Fan Fiction website has taken it upon itself to remove 'Winchester Vs Clarkson' due to some crap about 'scripts' and actual persons. Which is nonsense; I've read fan fics involving actual living people (including the actors that play Sam and Dean, and even the actors' parents) but **_**they**_** aren't removed. **

**And there are no scripts involved in that fic, just parts of the story that take place on the set; rather like some of the scenes in Hollywood Babylon.**

**As the story was completed months ago, I can only assume that someone read the story, and instead of having the guts to send me a message, took the cowardly route and made a complaint. **

**So all those months of hard work, all 15 chapters and the wonderful reviews have come to nothing. And as result, the sequel I had been planning has been scrapped.**

**I have requested that this website send me a copy of the story so that I may make some readjustments, but I doubt very much I shall hear anything back.**

**Many thanks for all your support over that story; it is such a shame that it's to come to this.**

_**With love,**_

_**ST.**_

_**On with the story...**_

_SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS_

**He Thinks It's All Over Chapter 4**

_**Warning: Implied physical relationship between John and OC.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Sam? How did you get here so fast?" Dean watched as his brother slowly turned to face him.

Sam stared at him in bewilderment. "I...don't remember...Dean you have to go. You can't be around me."

Joey glanced at Dean. _This could be tricky._

It was about to get lots worse as Sam raised his arm and Dean found himself on the business end of a .45. And judging by the terrified look on Sam's face _this _time the damn thing was fully loaded, one in the chamber, safety off and raring to go. Dean saw Sam's finger shaky against the trigger guard, noted the sweat pouring from Sam's hairline, and the tremors running through Sam's body.

_He's fighting it this time, fighting Ellicott._

The hand holding the .45 was shaking slightly.

"That's it Sam. Keep fighting. Don't let that bastard win!"

Sam flinched at Dean's words and blinked rapidly as though trying to focus but failing.

"Dean... please go... I don't know how long... I can hold him off!" Blood spilled from his nose, over his lips and down his chin, and Sam let out a strangled cry of pain.

Sensing that Dean wanted to go to his little brother, but fearing what might happen, Joey shifted slightly, taking a less threatening stance. "Sam darlin'." She called softly. "Where are the journals? What did Ellicott make you do with them?"

Sam's gazed shifted to Joey and he squinted, head tilted to one side, listening. "I know you..." he whispered breathlessly.

Joey stepped forward cautiously and smiled gently. "Yeah, ya do mate. Long time no see eh?"

Sam stared hard at her and Dean could see the terrified confusion in his eyes.

"I helped you, remember? After the accident when you were sixteen?" Joey could see recognition dawning on his face. "Come on sweetheart, tell me where the journals are. Let us put a stop to all this."

Sam appeared to be in some considerable pain as he tried to get the words out; something was trying to stop him. "Ellic...told me..." his breathing came in short ragged gasps and the gun wavered a little as he fought to regain control over his own body. He screamed in agony; it felt as though his head was being ripped apart and warm blood flowed once again from his ears.

Dean swallowed hard as the white lightening, Ellicott's psycho signature, attacked his brother yet again, only this time it was far more powerful. Much more of this and Sam was gonna collapse. He was already on the verge but Ellicott wouldn't let him go until he'd used Sam to kill Dean, and after that...

"Sam, tell us where the journals are." Joey repeated, a little more desperately. Like Dean, she could see that if this carried on Sam might never recover, permanently damaged by the spirit's torture.

Sam whimpered and wrapped his free hand round his skull, staggering a little as his balance came under attack.

"Sammy, come on." Sam heard the desperation in his brother's voice and gazed at him, frightened eyes pleading for help. Dean reached out a hand to him. "You can do it Sam, tell us so we can help you."

Sam took a step towards him and Dean could see that he was fighting to lower the weapon, but Ellicott's hold was too strong. "Dean...RUN!" A shot fired off but Sam somehow 

managed to swing the weapon slightly to the left and the bullet bounced harmlessly off the wall dangerously close to his older brother, chips of plaster raining down and dust hanging in the air.

Dean didn't even flinch just stayed still, his eyes never leaving Sam's. "Ya see little bro? You won't let him win. I _know _you won't. Now tell us about the journals...please Sam." Dean took a small step towards him, hand still stretched out in front, offering Sam a lifeline.

Sam glanced at Dean's hand and so desperately wanted to take it, wanted to reach out to him. But Ellicott wouldn't let him.

Sam's frustration was warring with his guilt, the two emotions circling each other like wolves, each waiting to see when the other would strike. And that damn spirit was hovering right in the middle, orchestrating it all. And that's when Dean finally understood. The dynamics had truly changed.

"Basement!" Sam rasped out and Ellicott punished him cruelly for his disobedience. Sam dropped to his knees and screamed out long and loud until blood flooded his mouth, and he choked violently. More blood poured from his ears as the spirit upped the stakes.

_Holy shit! His eyes are bleeding!_ Dean thought in despair and made to grab his brother, but _Ellicott was watching_ and the .45, which had merely dropped a little when Sam fell, now swung upwards, aiming straight between Dean's eyes.

"D...Dean...no..." Sam spluttered through the blood, trying to get his brother to understand that he had to leave.

"Joey?" Dean called out sharply. "Go to the basement. The journals are down there somewhere. The bastard made Sam go to the same spot this happened last time, probably to boost his control over him."

Joey pulled a canister of salt and a can of lighter fluid from her jacket pocket along with a Zippo. Without a word she raced from the room, down the corridor and into the dilapidated reception area. She pivoted round in the gloom until she spotted the door to the basement. Kicking it open with her foot, she barged through and virtually leapt down the stairwell, landed on both feet and immediately stood still, scanning, watching, waiting.

Her instincts were rarely wrong and as soon as they told her it was safe to proceed, she started searching the entire basement, knowing all the while that time was running out.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Sam?"

Watery eyes stared up at him. Sam was still on his knees, .45 raised.

Dean took a step closer. "Sammy?" He could hear Sam's shaky breathing, rasping in and out through the blood, and he didn't like the desperate gleam in his eyes.

"_I'm so...sorry I h...hurt you."_Sam choked out in anguish. "_I n...never meant tho...those th...ings I said...y...you're my br...brother."_ That desperate gleam took on an intense edge, and Dean _knew_. He just _knew._

"_I'd die for you."_

Those last words were the clearest Sam had spoken since this nightmare began days ago. But Dean was ready.

As Sam swung the .45 and jammed the barrel against his own temple, Dean lunged forward, grabbing his wrist and yanking it away. But Sam was still surprisingly strong and fought to keep hold of the weapon.

Sam was still on his knees and Dean was trying to use that against him, but clearly he'd taught his little brother well because Sam soon had him off balance. The two of them rolled around the grimy floor, each fighting for the upper hand, for control of the weapon.

Dean's purpose was simple, as he tried to slam his brother's hand against the floor, attempting to break his grip on the weapon. To save Sam from himself. His heart had nearly stopped at the sight of the barrel tucked tightly against Sam's head, seconds away from blowing his own brains out. And if it meant breaking his brother's hand in the process then so be it; at least he'd be alive.

Sam felt as though he were going crazy. One moment he was trying to get his brother to leave, to run to safety. The next he heard voices whispering to him, telling him that killing his brother would make him better, would make _everything_ better.

But he knew the difference between fantasy and fiction. This was his _brother_! And Sam would rather take his own life than allow any harm to come to Dean.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Joey was getting desperate. She still hadn't found the damn journals and she had the steadily growing _nasty_ feeling that something really bad was going to happen if she didn't put a stop to all this _right now_. Aside from the fact that she'd loved these boys since the first moment 

she met them six years ago, if anything happened to either one whilst in her care, Joey knew she wouldn't be able to look John Winchester in the eye ever again. Yeah, they were adults now but that didn't mean every time their father looked at them he didn't see the little boys they'd once been.

And she had to make sure these boys survived; John was more than just her friend, and he'd lost way too much already.

The muffled sound of gunfire far above had her pausing in her movements and she raised her eyes fearfully to the basement ceiling.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"Sam, let go of the damn gun!" Dean tried to wrench the .45 away but Sam clung on determinedly. "I'm not gonna let you do this!"

"_Got no choice...I don't wanna hurt you."_ Sam rasped out. He managed to push the gun up to his chin but Dean used his own brute strength to push the barrel away just in time as a loud retort sent a bullet thumping into a nearby rotting mattress. Both men winced at having a gun go off so close to their ears, but all powder burns went unnoticed as the struggle continued.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

She'd already found the entrance to the hidden room, having been trashed by the boys during their Ellicott- induced squabble a few days before.

Joey scrabbled around until she spotted a recess in the wall. It looked like there was some kind of hidden panel, and judging by the disturbed dust and cobwebs, someone had been messing with it recently.

_Sam._

She plucked at it desperately, trying to find a way of opening the damn thing, but it was wedged too tight. Glancing around desperately searching for something to give her some kind of leverage, she spied an old scalpel lying discarded on a dusty work surface and prayed it would be strong enough.

Trying not to think about what it might have once been used for, she grabbed hold of it. "Ok." She spoke aloud, as she wedged the blade of the scalpel into the seams of the panel. Joey often talked to herself because she claimed it was the only time she got a sensible answer, though there were times it drove John nuts; he often said it felt as though he'd walked in halfway through a conversation. "Here we go. And _OPEN SESAME!"_

She yanked at the blade, pulling it down with as much force as she dared and two things happened.

The blade snapped, flying upwards and caught Joey a glancing blow just above her left eyebrow, cutting deep, and she felt warm blood drip down into her eye. The second thing that happened was that the handle of the now broken scalpel slipped, cracking the wood and driving a three inch splinter into Joey's hand. She couldn't say she was entirely surprised; it _was _a stupid instrument to use. But it didn't stop the mild rant that followed.

"Bugger!" After hopping around the basement room for a few seconds and generally turning the air blue, she went back to the panel and eyed it warily. Glancing from her now badly bleeding hand to the panel, a small smile grew. "Eh! Idea!"

The panel wasn't wedged as tight as it was before so Joey's vandalism with the scalpel had obviously helped, not to mention the cracked wood meant that the structure was now compromised. She smeared her own blood all over the panel's seams, using it as a kind of grease. Then grabbing at the panel once more she gave it a huge tug.

The wood gave way with a mournful groan and Joey peered inside.

There were two large leather bound books.

_Bingo!_ She scattered the journals liberally with salt and lighter fluid, but just as she opened the Zippo, the sound of more gun fire reached her ears.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam managed to get some leverage and threw his brother off for a second, but like a bad penny Dean was instantly back, launching himself at Sam and reaching for the gun. Sam had that split second to turn his hand and as his brother landed on him, pinning him to the floor, the gun went off.

Both boys jerked just once and stared at each other, Dean's eyes wide with fear, Sam's pinched, brows drawn down.

"Sam, what the hell have you done?" Dean whispered. He raised himself shakily onto his hands and stared down at his abdomen.

_There was so much blood, but it wasn't his._ Eyes swivelling to his brother's body, he wanted to roar with grief and anger. "Oh God! Sam!"

He rolled off and immediately clutched a hand to the wound in Sam's stomach and pressed down hard. Sam let out a stifled yell and his back arched, eyes scrunched shut in pain.

"Easy Sammy. I've gotta slow the bleeding so you have to stay awake, ok?" Dean eyed his brother frantically until Sam nodded sharply. Sam was crying silently, but the hitched breathing and small grunts told Dean just how much pain he was in.

Dean had never seen a gut wound before, but his dad had told him enough stories from his time in Vietnam that he knew the likely outcome. Such wounds often resulted in a slow and agonising death, the victim usually dying from shock or blood loss. But at point blank range...

And right now Sam was going into shock.

Gently pulling Sam's trembling body into his arms, he settled him in, arms tight around him so that Dean could take full advantage of the position to press even harder on Sam's stomach. Sam jerked and blinked rapidly, trying to hold in a scream of pain.

Dean clenched his teeth and felt salty tears trickling down his face as he tried to keep Sam warm. "I'm sorry Sam," he whispered. "I gotcha kiddo, I always gotcha!"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

The journals caught instantly, which was surprising given how long they'd spent in this damp, draughty old building. Joey watched them disintegrate just to make sure, then raced back up to find the boys.

The sight that greeted her caused a wave of pain to wash over her.

Sam lay in his brother's arms, trembling and covered in blood. Judging by the way Dean was clutching both hands to Sam's stomach, Joey had a pretty good idea what happened.

"Dean..." Joey moved over and sank to her knees by the boys. "I'm so sorry I didn't find them in time."

Dean raised his tear stained face to hers. "Can you help him? Please Joey."

Joey shook her head uncertainly. "I've never been faced with anything on this scale before. I just don't know mate. I could end up makin' it a fuck sight worse."

"_Please_! You have to try!"

Joey glanced down at Sam's pain filled gaze. "The journals are destroyed Sam. Has he gone? For good?"

When Sam gave a shaky nod, Joey leaned over and kissed him gently on the forehead, running her hands through his hair.

Sam felt a familiar overwhelming sensation of peace and safety, and his eyes fluttered a little in response. The pain seemed to move like the flow and ebb of the tide until he felt nothing.

Dean watched in amazement as Sam instantly relaxed and seemed to go into a trance.

"How..." Dean tried again. "You have so got to teach me how to do that!"

Joey smiled briefly. "Not sure how it works mate. Now come on, we have to go. All I've done is slowed things down. Keep him warm and calm, and I'll drive us." Meeting Dean's gaze she added in a firm voice "he could still die 'cos that bloody bullet has to come out. And that truly _is_ beyond my skills."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"John, it's me mate."

"Joey? How's Sam? Dean ok?" This was said in rapid fire.

Joey was silent for a moment. "They're gonna be fine, though it was touch and go for Sam. But they need to see you. Dean's already asking questions and I just don't know what to tell him."

"I figured as much."

A worried silence followed.

"Seriously John m'darlin'. I wouldn't normally push this hard, but your sons need ya right now."

A huge sigh came down the phone. "Yeah, I know. But that bastard's watching my every move and I can't risk leadin' 'im to my boys."

"Yellow Eyes?"

"Yeah."

They were adults and their relationship was mostly platonic, but that didn't mean that they didn't over step the boundaries from time to time, didn't mean they didn't care for each other.

John's anguish broke Joey's heart. John was still deeply in love with Mary, and Joey was still very much in love with her late husband.

Neither of them were normal. It was something they had in common.

"You sure Sam's gonna be ok?" John spoke again, hesitantly.

"Yeah. I mean he's the early signs of a fever but his doctor has that in hand." Joey replied.

He gave out a soft growl. "If my sons are truly safe then get ya ass back here."

Joey felt a small shiver of anticipation up her spine and she stood up straight as her interest sparked_. _"You're thinking of those handcuffs again aint ya?_"_

There was a brief pause.

"_Damn straight!"_

Joey smiled. "You dirty little..."

"Darlin' you know damn well I aint so little..."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSss**_

Joey smiled down at Sam and Dean. They weren't her boys, but at the very same time _they were._ She respected Mary's memory in her quest to help keep them safe.

Sam was asleep, still drooling in that way she remembered from sixth years ago. And Dean...well he was gonna wake up with a sore neck at the rate he was going.

Joey still didn't have a full grasp of what she could do. But she knew how to procure a warm comfortable bed for the older brother, and that was mostly achieved by threatening violence to the bitchy fat ward sister, whose glare of defiance quickly turned to one of fear.

Just before she left Joey placed a gentle kiss on both boy's foreheads, and tucked an envelope into Dean's jacket pocket.

"Sweeter dreams m'darlin's."

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean woke feeling somewhat puzzled. Last he remembered he was sitting in a hard plastic chair, which was likely designed by a complete sadist, next to his brother's bed, but now he was laying on something soft and gazing up at the ceiling.

He sat up abruptly and glanced over.

Sam was still too pale but at least he was breathing, and courtesy of the nasal tube his lips were no longer blue. His brother shifted restlessly and let out a small groan.

"Sam?" Dean called out sharply, nostrils flaring. "Wake up!"

Sam's eyes snapped open at his brother's command. He looked scared and confused as his head rolled towards Dean.

_Yeah, you'd better be scared after what you tried to pull!_ Dean thought to himself. He was angry...no, _furious_ as hell. Sam had tried to kill himself and damn near succeeded.

"Dean..." Sam gazed at him sadly. "You ok?" He whispered.

Dean stared back, face hard. "Oh I'm just peachy. My brother shoots himself, nearly dies, and I couldn't be fucking happier _Sam!"_

Sam swallowed nervously. "I'm sorry...I just didn't..."

"What Sam? Didn't what?" Dean demanded. A small part of him was telling him to shut the fuck up, stop giving Sam such a hard time and let him explain, but his fear at nearly losing Sam had bubbled over and now anger was in the driving seat. "Didn't stop to think about what it would do to me if you died?" He jumped down off his own bed, crossed over to Sam's and grabbed his brother's shoulders. "Don't you realise that I would've died too? Huh Sam?" Dean stared at his brother for a long moment, then suddenly hung his head in defeat and let go. "I gotta get outta here for a while." He backed up, feeling nauseous, and found that he couldn't even look at Sam.

"Dean, wait!" Sam reached out a shaky hand "Please don't go!"

"I'll be back later. I just can't be around you right now." Dean turned on his heel and strode from the room, ignoring Sam's pleas. As soon as he was out of the building and he could breathe the fresh air, he felt himself start to relax and the hideous nausea that had attacked him in Sam's room gradually faded.

Heading for the hospital gardens, Dean trudged along trying his hardest not to think. About _anything._

__

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

If Sam had felt anxious when Dean's grip on his shoulders tightened momentarily before his hands dropped away, he felt full on panic when his brother left the room.

_I just can't be around you right now._

Sam's breathing grew erratic and the pain in his stomach became unbearable. All kinds of irrational thoughts ran through his mind.

_Supposing he doesn't come back? Supposing he's so disgusted with me that he leaves me here? I tried to kill myself; he must think I'm so weak. And he's right._

Before the traumatic events at Roosevelt Sam wouldn't have entertained those thoughts, would've laughed at them even. But Sam had changed since then; he could feel it. He no longer felt confident or rational; Ellicott had taken away control over his own body, his actions and thoughts, tried to force him to kill Dean, and Sam had never felt so worthless. By trying to kill himself instead he had attempted to claw back some of the control that Ellicott had stolen.

_I was trying to protect him._

_He hates me._

Sam couldn't just lay there. He had to go find his brother and explain, apologise, whatever it took to stop him walking away. Pulling the nasal tube off, he reached for the IV line and ripped it out, then did the same for the rest of the monitoring equipment. Ignoring the pain and the blood that dripped from his arm, Sam pushed back the covers and swung his legs over the bed until his feet came to rest on the floor. Groaning in pain he forced himself to stand 

but a bolt of agony shot through his stomach. It felt as though the stitches had been pulled, and the flood of liquid warmth saturating his hospital T-shirt confirmed it. Bent almost double and clutching at the wound, Sam managed to stumble a few feet towards the bedroom door, _towards Dean,_ before pain, exhaustion and dizziness caught up with him. The last thing he remembered was the sound of running feet and a worried, unfamiliar voice calling for assistance.

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Dean sat back on a wooden bench and pinched his nose. He'd had time to calm down but it still rankled at him that his brother would do something so stupid.

"Sammy...what am I gonna do with you little bro?" Dean smiled to himself sadly and made to stand up again when a rustling in his pocket caught his attention. Frowning, he pulled out an envelope and saw his name scrawled across it in beautiful old fashioned writing. Oddly enough it was the first time he'd thought about Joey since he woke up in Sam's room and he wandered about that.

Taking a deep breath he ripped open the envelope and started reading.

Dean,

Sorry mate but I had to go. Duty calls, and you know how much I hate goodbyes. Your Dad asked me to let you know that he _will_ catch up with you both soon enough, and you're not to worry about him

As for Sam. He's gonna be in a bit of a state after what Ellicott did to him. He's gonna need your help. A lot. Right now he doesn't trust himself and he probably thinks you don't trust him either. And I know you're feeling pretty angry with Sam at the moment but just try to remember that what he did, he did to protect you. If anything had happened to you by his hand Sam would never have forgiven himself. I'm only sorry I didn't find the journals before things got out of hand.

Now go. Be with your brother. He needs you more than ever now. Give him back some sense of control and peace of mind, and most of all let him know that he's not alone.

Because right now I'm guessing that's exactly how he feels. Scared and alone.

Take good care of each other, and I'm sure I'll see you again soon.

All my love,

Joey.

Dean sat up straight and re-read the letter. _How the hell does she do that?_

The woman never ceased to amaze him. She knew what he was feeling and understood why, but somehow she'd also known that he'd walk out on his brother.

He stared at the letter until the words swum before his eyes, then leapt up and took off at a run. Barely pausing to wait for the electronic doors to open Dean dashed at full speed to 

Sam's room, coming to an abrupt halt in the doorway. Fear and panic slammed what felt like a massive overdose of adrenaline through his bloodstream.

Sam's bed was empty.

Whirling round, breathing hard and fast, Dean scanned the hallway.

"SAM!" He roared, then began searching every room possible, barging in on worried relatives and startled patients.

"Mr Winchester!"

Dean felt a hand on his shoulder and damn near took the owner's head off.

"What?" Dean rounded frantically on the tiny doctor. "Where the hell's my brother? He's not... oh god please don't tell me..."

The doctor smiled sympathetically. "Let's go sit down and I'll explain."

Dean found himself herded gently but firmly back into Sam's room. Dr Malik gestured gracefully to the chair. Dean did as he was told, careful not to glance at the empty bed.

"Your brother was found unconscious on the floor a little while ago" Dr Malik took off his glasses and gave them a quick buffing on his white coat. "He got out of bed, ripped away his IV and collapsed. His movements broke the sutures and re-opened the wound, but fortunately our staff were alerted by the monitors at the nurse's station and help arrived before Sam could bleed out. He's had to go back into surgery to repair the damage".

Trying not to panic, Dean took a deep calming breath. "So he's gonna be ok?"

Dr Malik stared at him for a moment. "Sam's developed a post-operative pyrexia, an infection." He added at Dean's puzzled expression. "He's in recovery right now, but we'll 

be bringing him back to his room shortly. At the moment its..._precarious_, but I think you should know that he was asking for you." Dr Malik perched on the edge of the bed. "Sam's been heavily traumatised by the shooting and he needs support. You mentioned to the police that he was dragged off the street by muggers?"

"Yeah." Was Dean's short reply. _At least, that's what I told them._

"Then perhaps I could suggest post-trauma counselling?" The doctor smiled sympathetically when Dean looked shocked. "I'll leave you with that thought. But in the meantime, Sam's fever is my primary concern. As soon as he's settled I'll instruct his nurse to bathe him in cool water. Try to bring down his temperature." He smiled. "I'm a little old fashioned in that respect. Sometimes...well, the old remedies are the best?

"I can do that." Dean pleaded. "I've looked after him most of his life. Please, let me do it." _I owe him that much._

Dr Malik paused to consider his request but not for long. He nodded. "Fair enough."

Dean stayed there deep in thought long after the doctor left the room. Sam was traumatised all right. How could he not be? He'd spent almost the entire week being mentally and physically tortured by Ellicott, and all Dean could do was yell at him when he was sick and walk out. How could he not have realised that?

_Oh God! I'm so sorry Sammy. It was me that made this all the worse for you by refusing to talk about it, and even now I haven't learned my lesson._ Dean ran a hand through his hair in frustration before speaking aloud to the empty room. "And it's always you that ends up paying the heaviest price."

"Ahem." Dr Malik appeared in the doorway clearing his throat respectfully. "We're bringing him in now."

Dean nodded and stood as Sam was wheeled into the room on a gurney. He stared at his younger brother; Sam looked..._was_ desperately ill. His hair was darkened with sweat and his skin was chalk white, except for a faint flush of red high on his cheek bones. At least he looked peaceful though the doctor reliably informed him that Sam was still out of it from the anaesthetic.

Once Sam was settled, Dean sat on the edge of the bed, his little brother's hands both encased in his own. He sighed a little in relief at seeing the oxygen mask fogging up every few seconds.

"Hey Sam. I'm back. Done some thinking. Look...dude you had me so scared, wonderin' where the hell you were." Dean rubbed soothing circles on the back of Sam's hand and smirked at himself. "Christ, I've spent the last week worryin' 'boutcha. Why the hell did you get outta bed when you were so sick, huh?"

He realised he already knew the answer to that, and Joey's letter had made a point. Sam had panicked when Dean walked out, the fever already starting to take shape, and thought Dean was leaving him. He recalled his harsh words, spoken out of fear, and cringed.

"Ok. Yeah, I get it." He watched as a nurse brought in some wash cloths and towels. "Now this is gonna take me back. Can't remember the last time I bathed you." Dean stroked a few damp strands of hair from Sam's forehead. "I think you were like four at the time...let's get that fever down huh?"

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

Sam remained peaceful for most of the night as Dean bathed his chest, face and neck with the water, but when he eventually started fretting, Dean ran the wash cloth down his arms and bathed his clammy hands.

"Ya know it's gonna be ok right? Sam?" Sam was whimpering again through the mask, obviously trapped in his fever-induced nightmare.

_Damn _Ellicott! He's gone, Joey and Sam had confirmed it, but the bastard was still being allowed to torture Sam. And there was nothing Dean could do about it. It was just Sam, the fever and a real bad fucking dream prison that Dean couldn't break his little brother out of until his fever lifted.

Eventually Dean drifted off as his own exhaustion took hold once again.

The first thing that woke him was a soft noise of distress, and he snapped awake. Eyes swivelling to the bed, Dean nearly whooped for joy.

Sam was staring at him, though rather subdued.

Dean had so much to say but all he could get out was "I know I've said it before but I'll say it again. It's gonna be ok Sam. I promise."

All Sam had the strength to do was nod slightly, his eyes still watery.

But that was all either of them needed.

_Need ya bitch._

_Likewise Jerk._

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

"No word from Joey?"

"Nah."

Silence.

"You think we'll hear from her again?"

_I think she and our dad have a thing goin' Sam, so what're the chances? Not to mention she pulled some freaky shit that, now that I come to think of it, isn't far off what you can do..._

Instead Dean tightened his jaw, then remembered his promise.

"Probably."

And that was all Sam could get out of him. But he'd learned.

Sam knew the answers before he'd even asked the questions.

.

_**End.**_

_**SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS**_

_**Authors notes:**_

Not sure if I went too far with the whole relationship between Joey and John. Have I?

Also wondering if I went too far with the whole 'fever' thing, but it's done now and I enjoyed it so sod it! Hope you did too.

Let me know what ya think everyone!

Kind regards,

ST.xxx.


End file.
